


Ryokira Writing Prompt Collection 2: Electric Boogaloo

by IrisClou



Series: welcome to ryokira hell [6]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BONUS THERES CYBORG 009 VS DEVILMAN VERSE IN HERE!, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Slow Burn, cant say much bc itll spoil them!!, double bonus:, implied animal death in the last one, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisClou/pseuds/IrisClou
Summary: Here's set two of some Ryokira prompts I got on tumblr!The premise is "kindness of strangers!"





	1. Missed Stop

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN! I burnt out pretty quick though.   
> You are always welcome to drop by inbox @zero-buster.tumblr.com and send me YOUR writing prompts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: public transportation: “did we — pass — oh fuck”

 

The pair sat together on the train, Akira having claimed the window seat, excited to leave nose prints everywhere as they crossed over field, forest, and sea. Ryo had settled for the aisle seat, originally looking to trip teenage jerks who wouldn’t give their seats up to the elderly. Now he sat back, headphones on, legs crossed, flipping to page 122 of _Watership Down_ – an early birthday present from Akira.

Akira, who thought something seemed off, now that he returned from the refreshments car.

“Hey, Ryo…” Akira nudged the boy beside him on the train, prompting him to push back his headphones and frown. “Where were we meeting Miki again?”

“Shibuya.” He cleared his throat, and went to put the headphones back on, and resumed reading his book.

Akira swallowed, a shiver of panic making his heart clench briefly. There was something childish about this gnawing unease, the front before the storm of fear. Biting at his lip, he sat up straighter, looking around at the tickets clipped over other passengers’ seats.

Green, green, pink, blue…but no yellow for Shibuya. He stood up, much to Ryo and the others’ disdain. The entire aisle was void of yellow ticket slips – except theirs.

“Ryo.” Akira prodded his friend as he flopped back in his seat. “Ryo! Look at the tickets!” His voice was a hot whisper, but still it caught the attention of nearby passengers.

“God, Akira. I thought you WANTED me to read this–” He yanked down his headphones at the wide eyed stare. “Wh…the tickets–?”

It was like he was struck with a branding iron the way he nearly jumped out of his seat.

He had never been more aware than now, that they were going 80 mph. This was definitely the slower of the trains, but 80 mph for thirty minutes was still a good forty miles. Forty miles if they chucked themselves out the windows that moment and got a cab, which would probably be a good ¥7500 to get to where they would WANT to be–all this math ran like frantic lemmings through his head, before he turned to Akira.

Akira, who, in his ever-articulate manner of speaking, voiced Ryo’s thoughts.

“Did we…pass…” Their eyes widened simultaneously as they stared at each other, lips moving together, “Oh FUCK!”

It was a mad scramble, of cramming belongings into their bags, stuffing trash into plastic convenience store sacks, yanking on jackets and tying up shoelaces. Fumbling at pants pockets to make sure wallets were still there.

“Hey, hey, uh, excuse me, ma’am, what’s the next stop?” Akira hopped up onto his seat, craning his neck over the headrest at the middle aged woman sitting behind him. Ryo stood out in the aisle, taking the uncanny  stance of someone about to duel, piercing blue eyes not dulled a bit by maroon tinted aviators. He stared out over the seats, a look of absolute concentration clouding his face.

“Fuji.” The lady seemed a bit perturbed about this scruffy, dark eyed young man staring at her like that.

“Ryo, uh…” Akira gulped, looking out the window, then back to his friend. There were a lot less buildings now. They had definitely passed out of the city, suburbs fading into farmland and forests.

“Fuji.” Ryo echoed, eyes set on the door to the next car, the rattling of the floorboards and the shuddering of the cabin unable to shake his balance. He turned dark eyes to Akira. “Looks like we’ll be sight-seeing instead of shopping.” A sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“…Miki’s going to kill me…” Akira flopped back down into his seat, letting out a drawn out, gurgling whine. “She’s going to absolutely murder me for this.”

Ryo laughed, and took their ticket down from the clip before taking the seat beside his friend.

“She can’t murder you from a hundred miles away, Akira.” He murmured, and gave a furtive look around the aisle before slipping his hand into the boy’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. His heart skipped a beat as it was squeezed back.

They had to very careful in public.

Tender brown eyes gazed at Ryo – the same eyes, the same docile look the boy had grown up learning to fall in love with – and he leaned in instinctively.

It was lightning fast, but just as electric as their lips touched – and Ryo jerked away, feigning shock.

“Hey! Watch it, just because the train’s shaky–” He couldn’t help but wet his lips as he flashed Akira a smirk.

His friend hastily played along.

“Sorry…! Maybe if you’d stop trying to lean over me to look out the window…” Akira faked a snarl, but it was obvious he was also teasing.

“Maybe if you’d let me sit in your lap…” Ryo’s lips now were at the boy’s ear, eyes narrowed as he saw him bristle, cheeks flushing, “The train hitting all these bumps would feel a lot better.”  

Ryo had won their little flirt, terribly satisfied with Akira hiding his red face behind calloused hands, head bowed.

After all these years, he really never did change, did he?

The blonde sat back and pulled out his book, glancing out the window at lush fields of wildflowers and sloping hills with dusty dirt roads.

Maybe they had to miss a few stops in life to really see what the world had to offer them.


	2. No Soap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Gym: "Wow, this is… really awkward, but could I borrow some soap?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this is if they hadn’t reunited how they did in the OVAS]

 

Akira stared down at the duffel bag by his feet.

No fucking soap. And he’d gone through it a thousand times, taking everything out in a rush before angrily stuffing it back in.

He swallowed thickly and looked up, now more aware than before that he was very naked in the public shower room of the gym.

Very naked and without a single bar of fucking soap. Couldn’t have planned it better.

If he had just gone swimming or jogging, he wouldn’t have given too much a shit about not using soap, but he’d been at the weights and running. He was by all means pretty much disgusting, and he didn’t even need to see the murky water running down his calves and into the drain to know he _felt_ disgusting.

Akira held back a hot sigh and looked around, this feeling of absurd helplessness making him feel like a damn kid all over again. He glanced over at the sinks – maybe he could just…casually stride over and get some handsoap. That…that would work, right?

He made to take the first step, when the door to the shower room opened, and someone new came in, obviously just from the pool by the looks of the tight black speedo he wore.

The young man blinked, a bit taken aback at how the boy stuck out like a sore thumb. His skin was lily white and his hair was just shy of platinum blonde. Akira’s thick brows furrowed as the boy padded over to the showers, silently taking the one next to him. He had ice blue eyes to boot! Was he a foreigner?

Suddenly, said blue eyes turned to him, stopping his train of thought in its tracks.

Damn! Were those eyelashes fake, or natural? Akira found himself some shade of intimidated by the fine features of the boys’ pretty face.

“Do you need something?” The stranger spoke without any inflection or expression whatsoever.  

Akira made something akin to the sound of getting punched in the gut, and it caught in his throat for extra effect. The boy raised a sculpted brow.

It took Akira a good half minute to scrape up some composure and an ounce of suave looks, before it all crumbled the second he opened his mouth.

“Wow, this is… really awkward, but could I borrow some soap?”

It was obvious the blonde was desperately trying to suppress a shit-eating grin.

Ryo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before nodding. What an absolute idiot. But why did this bastard look so…familiar? Dark, scruffy hair, sunkissed brown skin and hot coal eyes…and absolutely a hunk by anyone’s standards. He held back a shiver.

“Sure.” He bent down to shuffle through his drawstring bag, pulling out a bottle of something terribly expensive looking and handed it to the boy.

Akira, however, had been more or less ogling the newcomer, eyes fixed on his ass. The moment he was handed the soap, however, he stiffened, glancing away.

 _Come ON, Akira._ He mentally slapped himself, _knowing_ he knew better than that.

Didn’t really stop him from sneaking a second look, of course.

Ryo pretended not to notice, and turned on his shower, wetting his hair and slicking it back.

“Hey, uh…so…’ Akira rasped, trying to make small talk as he accidentally squirted out a stupid amount of soap into his hand. “Ah, shit.”

He stared into his palm, then jolted as the stranger’s hand touched it, scooping up the excess. Wide eyes slid over to where the blonde began to soap himself up, before slipping his thumbs under his waistband and tugging down the speedo.

Akira could not tear his eyes away if he tried, and by God, did he try. The blonde was just gorgeous, a slender, lightly muscled frame and curved hips, with wiry arms and a heart shaped face–

 _Jesus, Akira stop being so…._ gay _._ He scolded to himself. Wasn’t he supposed to like girls, too? Didn’t feel like it now.

He watched as the boy stepped out from the swimwear and hung it on the hook, then arched his back, stretching into the warm spray of the shower.

_Oh, hell. Don’t look at his dick, Akira, that’s the LEAST you can do, don’t look at it, don’t look at it, don’t–_

Akira looked down.

CHRIST, what a pretty dick.

“Are you going to use that soap, or do you need your mother to show you how to wash yourself?” The blonde turned cold eyes on him, but it was easy to tell he meant it as a jest.

“Yeah, I uh…” Akira stumbled over his own tongue, before just slapping the soap onto his bicep and rubbing it in. “…You new here?” He managed, clearing his throat as he glanced away. If he kept staring, he knew he was going to get just hard enough to be noticeable, and he didn’t feel like dying of embarrassment today.

Ryo nodded serenely, pouring out some shampoo to massage into his hair.

“Yes, I just moved here from Tokyo, but used to live in Fukushima.” His voice was smooth as silk, “Are you from Osaka?” He cracked a sly grin, “You look a little out of place as well.”

Akira blinked, and gave up a sheepish smile.

“Is my accent that obvious? Yeah, I was born there, but we moved here when I was in grade school.” He went to scrub himself down, hiking up a leg to get the bottoms of his feet.

The blonde watched intently. Something…was overwhelmingly familiar about this young man, but he’d be damned if he ever could put a finger on it.

“Oh, uh, shit. My name’s Akira, by the way, what about you?” He handed back the bottle of soap from where he had set it on the rack, having given up trying to read what was obviously written in French.

“Ryo.” The boy murmured, rinsing out his hair before threading conditioner through the back of it.

The pair made idle chitchat about hometowns and just how overwhelming a city Tokyo was, before Akira suddenly piped up.

“Hey, didja need me to get your back for you?” Of course, he was more than comfortable with this Ryo character now that they seemed to have warmed up to one another.

The blonde immediately stiffened, knees hastily pressing together.

“…That’s quite alright, Akira.” His eyes flicked over to what was on display between the young man’s thighs. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass.” That bastard was packing something absolutely inhuman, and Ryo wanted to be able to walk straight when he left the showers.

He paused, looking around to see if the room was empty besides them.

It was.

“I can do yours, however.” He churred teasingly, “God knows how you can reach anything with those muscles of yours.” Once icy blue eyes had warmed considerably.

Akira felt a blush creep into his cheeks, and he looked away. He knew Ryo was just joking, but…damn it! Why couldn’t people just wear a sign around their neck saying “I’m gay too, it’s okay.”?!

Ryo didn’t ask about the scars. Didn’t ask about how Akira inhaled sharply every time soft hands worked out hard knots.

Didn’t ask anything, but told Akira one thing.

“Is there an Asuka Ryo here?” An older man poked his head through the door, startling the pair as they faced each other, excuses to stay running through their minds.

Ryo stepped back, and grabbed his swimwear, turning to the man at the doorway.

“Yes, that would be me.”

“You have a phone call, from a Professor Asuka.”

Ryo nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Akira.

“My father. I’ll have to go.”

Told him one thing.

A number left scrawled on a note atop the boy’s duffel.

_“I think we have a lot of catching up to do, Fudo. Call me. ♡ -Ryo”_

Akira stared dumbly at the scrap paper in his hand.

_…Asuka…_

Who the hell did he remember having that last name?! More importantly, _how did he know Akira’s last name was Fudo?!_

He’d have to ask Miki to use the phone for a while tonight.


	3. Stood Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stood up date: "Hey...Are you okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyborg 009 vs Devilman verse!!

Akira stared down at his phone, the screen illuminating his dark features in the warm summer dusk. He ignored the pedestrians mingling around the front of the movie theatre, laughing and talking loudly as they went in or out.

Mindlessly, his thumbs swiped over the apps, clicking at email, then his twitter, then to the internet browser, in that order out of habit. Closing one, he’d just open the other to refresh it.

It was getting harder to swallow and he could feel his nose begin to burn as nothing new showed up, no matter how many times he turned the screen off and checked non existent notifications.

_19:51._

The movie was going to be over at this rate.

She wasn’t going to show up, was she?

Akira bit at his lip, sharp canine cutting into the skin, and shoved his phone into his hoodie pocket. He leaned up against the bricks of the building and bowed his head, staring at the cement walkway under his sneakers.

His shoulders hunched, nails digging into his palms as he crammed his hands into his jean pockets. The pavement now had three little wet speckles, despite Akira trying to hold back the tears.

Damn it! His sob caught in his throat, and he suppressed a corrective cough, starting to rock back and forth on his heels to comfort himself a bit.

He had worked so hard for this. Thought she wanted this too – for weeks he’d bent over backwards to get her attention, even if he had to make a fool of himself in class. Thought she was laughing with him, not _at_ him.

Helped her with that research project, sat with her and listened when she had to vent about her parents being so controlling, even walked her home a few times.

And now he would be walking himself home.

Akira yanked his phone out of his hoodie pocket, the couple minute wait making it feel like he’d have a dozen new notifications to check – but there was only one.

It was her! She just made a post on her Twitter! Maybe she was sick, maybe her parents made her go to a relative’s house, maybe – a thousand and one reasons flew through his mind.

He typed in his password and flicked open the app in a flash.

His heart froze at the short message.

She was out with her friends.

Scrolling down was a mistake – a link to a photo of her sitting in the lap of school’s best pitcher, both of them grinning and holding hands.

Akira trembled, his face hot, tears hotter as they splashed onto the screen, blurring out their faces.

He couldn’t even be angry. He wanted to, wanted to hate her, wanted to think terrible things to do to her, but he couldn’t. Something held him back, something he thought he’d all but lost that night at the club.

Akira pulled up his hood and rubbed furiously at his watering eyes so no one could see.

Now it just felt cold. Lonely, unwanted, overlooked. The boy didn’t live for fame and fortune, but it seemed like all his life he was just another face in the crowd, another brick in the wall. Easily passed by, easier to dismiss.

Even if his eyes were darker, his teeth sharper, his hair longer – even if he was noticed for these striking features, it wasn’t the attention he wanted, not the simple cry to just to be appreciated for being himself.

Akira stomped his feet to regain some feeling in them as they had fallen asleep during his musings.

Forgotten. That’s what he was. Not important enough to be remembered, to be–

“Hey…are you okay?” A deeper voice got Akira to jump, nearly making him piss his pants.

Hastily, the boy turned towards the voice, sniffling.

_Fuck! Don’t cry, shithead! You’re already pathetic enough, getting stood up by some senior bitch._

Akira blinked. The man who had spoken was strikingly featured: tall and slender, but still a good build with a heart shaped face, framed by sunset blonde hair that curled around his ears in pointed sideburns. He wore a grey suitcoat and a powder blue turtleneck with beige slacks – who the hell was this guy dressed to the nines for?

His eyes, however, stopped the boy in his tracks.

Silver-blue and colder than the winter moon.

Akira was struck with the memory of once seeing a horse with blue eyes, and how it had sent shivers up his spine for hours afterwards.

Oh, fuck. He asked a question, didn’t he? What was it?

“…Yeah, I’m fine.” Akira managed, licking the salt from his lips.

The man’s thin brows furrowed.

He glanced around, before turning to face the street.

“How long have you been waiting for her?” He spoke, trying to give the boy some time to straighten himself out by not looking at him directly and making it worse.

“…An hour.”

“The movie’s over now, isn’t it?”

“…” A painful swallow. “Yeah.”

The man’s cool blue eyes flicked over to the boy.

“Forget about her. If someone can’t make the same effort and wastes your time, they aren’t worth it.” He said softly, but firmly.

“…But, she…”

The blonde scoffed.

“Girls your age are never worth the trouble. They think they’re mothers once they’re out of their teens, so they try to live as recklessly as they can while they still have their youth.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, patting the box. “Do you mind?”

Akira blinked.

“…Not really.”

“Thank you.” He lit one, and took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke out into the summer night air.

Silence.

“Do you still want to see a movie, or do you want to go home?” A brief pause as he turned to look at the despondent boy. “Or neither?”

Akira shivered at the feel of those ice blue eyes on him.

“…Neither.”

The man hummed in acknowledgment and took another drag.

“Summer nights are too nice to stay inside for. Have you seen the bluffs after dark?” He stared out over the parking lot at the hazy horizon.

The boy stiffened, suddenly feeling a wave of unease wash over him.

“My name’s Ryo, by the way.” He turned to face Akira, and raised a brow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he thrust out a hand to shake.

Akira tentatively took it.

“Akira.” He replied, then continued with a mumble, “No, I haven’t.”

“Come with me.”

It was less a suggestion than a command.

“Eh?! I barely know you, old man!” Akira squawked, yanking away his hand like he’d been shocked.

Ryo laughed.

“Old man? I can’t imagine I’m too much older than /you/ are. It’s all a trick of the light, I assure you.”

“Yeah, well–”

“I just don’t want some poor bastard like yourself moping and wallowing in his own filth over some idiot girl when there’s an entire world out there to look at instead.” Ryo interjected flatly, satisfied when Akira’s eyes widened.

Silence.

“Trust me, Akira.”

And the boy did.

And he left the theatre and the movie and the girl and any lingering thoughts behind – all in the three salty speckles on the walkway.

–

“That’s what they call the morning star, Venus. You can tell because it’s brighter than most, and is close to the moon along the horizon.”

And the world was brighter, when Akira was closest to the moon along the horizon of bluffs, the ocean nothing but liquid night at their feet.  


	4. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompt: Hey friend, I want to see some cute ryokira interactions but its that [were]wolf demon!Amon AU. Give me the good pubby and his boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tw: implied dog death]

 

[ **[bgm]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVLP-URFgQo&feature=youtu.be)

“You sure you don’t…mind?” Ryo paused mid step along the dirt path in the city park. He turned blue moon eyes to Akira, who smiled gently and shook his head.

“It’s night. No one will see. Take all the time you need.” The taller boy reassured his friend as they neared the more wooded area, converse and loafers crunching over twigs from an earlier spring storm.

“Besides,” Akira chuckled, bowing his head to ruffle his hair, and when he lifted it, two fat black wolf ears perched amongst the dark locks, “You’ve done plenty for me in the past with your wings.”

Ryo gave him a pathetic smile, head tilted to the side as he watched his friend shiver, fur bristling up his arms. The boy hastily tugged down his pants and pulled off his shirt so they wouldn’t get torn as he transformed.

The moonlight glanced off every sable hair on the wolf demon’s back, an iridescent sheen like no other. Heavy paws fell to the earth, and a bold snout snuffled at the grass as his bottle brush tail wagged slowly. He snorted softly, and pushed the bridge of his muzzle into his friend’s chest, seeking affection.

Ryo smiled, still unable to believe at times his childhood friend could become something so massive, the wolf’s shoulders catching in the branches of towering oaks. He smiled to himself and wrapped his arms around the broad snout, fingers scritching deeply into the canid’s jaw, feeling along the strong bones and soft throat.

“John…” He whispered. The grip tightened.

 _Go on._ Akira thought, blood moon eyes warm and overflowing with empathy, eyespots pulling up as he felt the boy’s breath catch in his throat. _Tell him goodbye._

–

The wooded park was gravely silent on that spring night, not a soul to be seen. But if you looked hard enough between the shadows of trees and under the shade of cloud covered stars, you would see a boy and his dog.

“John, you’re such a good boy,” Ryo wept, pulling away from the muzzle to run his hands over thick furred cheeks, stepping to the side to rub at plush ears that swiveled loyally to catch his voice. “You were always such a good boy.”

He hadn’t cried like this since he was a child. But not a sound was made. He had been told from an early age that boys were not supposed to cry. That men did not cry.

So he did not cry any more.

But a child will cry for their pet. For their best friend. For their good boy.

The tears did not falter like his steps, the tears did not yield for his words, the tears did not cool the burning salt scars down his cheeks.

“John.” He kept saying the name, kept mumbling it under his breath as he rubbed the soft ears, listening for the familiar panting, the upturned lips and lolling tongue, ever pleased by the slightest bit of affection. “John, I love you.”

Ryo’s fingers stopped the comforting motions and his hands dropped to bury themselves in cheek fur as he pushed his forehead to the wolf’s temple, jaw taut. Silver eyes bled silver tears, running down a slender nose and onto tufts of black fur, where they decorated the pelt like dew on roses.

He felt the soft coat surround him, draw him in, and in a moment of panic and grief, thrust his hand out, searching for the wolf’s jugular, the mighty rhythmic pulsing soothing him.

“Good boy, John. You’re doing so good, boy.” He grit his teeth, hearing his own voice crack and strain like a dove caught in shattered stained glass, reinforcing his bitter sorrow. “What a good boy, look at how handsome you are, John….”

And with that, the battle for dignity was over.

His face crumpled and he let go of his composure, of what he was taught a man should be. He squeezed shut his eyes, lips pulled back in a messy grimace, and bawled like the child he never got to be.

He screamed, he pulled at the fur, and he beat on the side of the wolf with weak fists. He grabbed the muzzle and held it tight in his arms, eyes and nose leaking like the day he was born.

It was his John. _It was his John._

 _“John!”_ He cried out, clawing at the enormous wolf’s face, pulling it closer, smoothing out every displaced tuft of fur, “John, I’m right here, I’m here, boy, it’s okay!” He spluttered and drooled, laying his temple to the wolf’s muzzle, forcing himself to take deep, shuddering breaths, despite his throat burning like hell.

He closed his eyes, listening to the powerful breaths the wolf took, and matched his own to them between dry swallows.

“It’s okay, boy. I’m here now, John. You’re gonna be okay. I love you.” He struggled with the words, to say them clearly. He wanted to make sure John /knew./ “Shh, boy, shh…”

But his strength had finally faded, and he slowly sunk to the ground, knees buckling under the weight of final sorrow.

Akira followed him, carefully lowering himself down with the boy.

“John…John….it’s me…it’s Ryo…” He breathed shakily, “It’s me, boy. I’m gonna take you home, home to Papa, okay?”

The childish word nearly caught in his throat, and Akira felt his own eyes sting with hot tears at the sound.

“We’re gonna go home, John. You’re gonna see Papa again, and get to sleep by the fire.” He whispered, smiling to himself, though his lips could only stay upturned for a few seconds at a time as another sob broke through.

Pain had finally taken its toll.

Ryo closed his eyes and focused on breathing and swallowing. His head pounded and he couldn’t feel his nose at all.

“I’m gonna bring you home to Papa. And he’ll take such good care of you. You’ve been such a good boy to us, John. You’ll always be a good boy.” He mumbled, the last of his tears falling onto the brave muzzle.

“I love you, John. I miss you.”

Silence.

Akira waited a few more minutes, before lifting his head. He nudged Ryo with his leathery nose, and gave the boy a very, very small lick, tasting salt and sorrow – but most importantly – relief.

They shared a quiet tenderness together, just nuzzling and tiny licks, and fingers that traced whiskers and mindlessly petted soft fur.

Ryo stared blindly into space, eyes red, mouth open as he breathed.

“Good boy.” He murmured, looking down into Akira’s eyes. “You’re a good boy. Thank you.“

The wolf nodded once in understanding.

If there was anything he had learned in the short time on this earth, it was that once you loved something with all your heart, it did not leave. It remained with you, always.

The human heart was curious in that way. Taking beautiful memories of those it fell in love with and nestling it among its feathers like a little magpie. To treasure and keep for all its days, no matter the joy or grief it brought.


End file.
